Farewell John Hughes

(image courtesy NY Times)

Molly Ringwald, John Hughes, Anthony Michael Hall. These are names I grew up with. Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Pretty in Pink. These are movies I loved.

It is strange how you can feel such sadness for a person you have never met. Although since the passing of my father, I feel a strange quiet sadness whenever I hear of anyone passing.

Speaking with a friend yesterday, the talented Mr. Maxwell Loren Holyoke-Hirsch, I discovered that there would be an article published in the NY Times written by Molly Ringwald about John Hughes' death. Max had been approached to illustrate said article. Poor fella had a raging fever, but managed to turn it out.

I awoke this morning very excited to see that he had indeed turned it out. The underlying theme for Ringwald's article was that John was like Peter Pan, in that he created a Neverland for the actors in his films. Her writing was just what I had expected it to be. Thoughtful, intimate, sentimental.

The picture that accompanied it was a charming example of MLHH's oeuvre. His signature characters are created with such a childlike passion: I can't imagine a more suitable artist to illustrate the words chosen to mourn the passing of a true cinematic great.